Now I may not have Teufel’s long experience in the gay pornography industry, but I did live with gay men for several years which I think more than qualifies me to speak on how gay something is. And during those several years I did happen to witness some admittedly impressive feats of galactic cock sucking. I’ve seen sucking and fucking. I’ve seen Star Trek-themed homoerotic Halloween parties where a prize was given to the couple with the best Kirk/Spock butt fucking costuming. I’ve seen the hypnotic fat folds of female fag hags sway in the wind of my dorm room’s air conditioner, waving back and forth amidst the pig-like sobbing noises and muffled pleas of my roommates to be released from the vile walrus wench’s embrace after her internet boyfriend left her for yaoi fan boys. I’ve not seen a Bear convention, but I have seen a convention of Bear convention organizers… and let me tell you it ain’t pretty. I’ve seen gay men, plastered off liquor and absinthe, attempt to time travel so they could felch Jesus. I’ve seen a Gospel Brunch Drag Show (I shit you not). I’ve seen a fuckload of gay stuff.

But this? Oh man, there’s gotta be an award for something this knob-slobberingly light-in-the-loafers. Maybe someone could craft a gilded 9 inch cock and balls with functional jizz launcher mounted on a pedestal that reads: “Presenting the Only Emasculated Testes to Ever Escape Elton John’s Anus of Doom and Treachery.”

Deathstars is a Swedish industrial metal act formed by members of Dissection and Ophthalamia and on their third full length Night Electric Night they have acheived the notable distinction of crafting an album so sissified and wimpy that general pop ballads are heavier than it. Everything is mind numbingly plodding, the vocals sound like bad Euro trash techno tainted every once in awhile by a light Dani Filth influence, the synths are worse than a Scooter song, and the music is so uneventful that you will be screaming for something to happen. This is hardly good metal and while it has all the elements for a dance album, it’s too boring and lifeless for clubbing.

Honestly? Britney Spears‘ “Womanizer” is heavier than the entirety of this album. Compared to Night Electric Night, Britney Spears is Lucid Interval-era Cephalic Carnage.

And just look at that album art! Jesus, Deathstars looks like they wake up every morning and stand in front of a mirror emulating Marilyn Manson poses, ‘cept for the fact that Marilyn Manson is a better dresser.

My God, I can’t believe I just wrote “Marilyn Manson is a better dresser.” But you know what? It’s TRUE. That’s how bad this is.

This really is the gayest thing I’ve ever heard.

Review byNecro-tron